


And I Seem To Find the Happiness I Seek

by Comicbooklovergreen



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Endgame tag, F/F, F/M, I had to do it, Multi, Polyamory, Stegginelli, Tag for THAT end scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 14:18:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18874903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Comicbooklovergreen/pseuds/Comicbooklovergreen
Summary: Peggy and Steve were always meant to get their happy ending. So was someone else.





	And I Seem To Find the Happiness I Seek

**Author's Note:**

> You knew I had to. At least some of you probably knew that I had to. There are a plethora of plot issues and psychological issues and just, issues, that come with this version of Steve being in 1948 (or thereabouts) as opposed to the Steve I usually write. Are we going to address those? Barely. That is, possibly, a whole other fic, maybe. For now, have more fluff born out of my inability to give Peggy just one right partner.
> 
> Comments and kudos make the author happy.

They dance, as they have so many times, as they will again. They kiss, as they will again.

The third stair from the bottom creaks, like it always does, because Steve hasn’t gotten around to fixing it.

The noise breaks the kiss, but not the embrace. Peggy and Steve sway slowly. The bubble that is theirs, their own little world, it expands instead of popping.

“Jeez, keep it down in here,” Angie teases, descending the stairs to join them. She’s in a flowing summer dress, the warmth of the day matching her smile. “Some of us have to work, you know.”

Peggy hums, the dark red of her dress contrasting with the brighter colors of Angie’s. “How’s the script, darling?” She stays in Steve’s arms, but holds out a hand for Angie.

Angie takes it as the song switches, Astaire talking about heaven and dancing cheek to cheek. Peggy gives her a little twirl, still with one arm around Steve.

“Don’t know yet,” Angie says. “Seems like it could be good, but this stuff’s always guesswork. No predicting the hits from the flops. If only there was some way to know for sure.” She stares at Steve.

Steve takes Angie’s other hand, twirls her away from them, then back before either can feel the loss. “I’m not the guy to ask. Had a lot of things to catch up on, not a lot of time.”

“You’re from the future. Who better to ask?” She’d called him Buck, once or twice, without thinking. Buck as in Rogers. That hadn’t lasted. She’s considering SG for him, or Wells, as in HG, _The Time Machine_. She hasn’t settled yet.

“Spoilers,” Steve says.

Angie huffs. “Why does he always say that, Pegs? What’s that even mean?”

“You ask as if I should know,” says Peggy.

Angie shakes her head. “You brought us back a weird one, English.”

“I know, darling.”

He’d brought himself back, because of Peggy. Angie was there too, and Angie thought Peggy might’ve actually turned him away. For her, because of their fantastic, amazing, relatively new thing they had going. Peggy wouldn’t turn Angie away, that was made obvious. As obvious as it was that missing her date with Steve, willingly this time, would forever break something in the unbreakable Peggy Carter.

That simply wouldn’t do. Besides, most guys didn’t even call you back. How many were you apt to find who’d come across time for you?

It’s complicated, Peggy still clings to him. In bed, on the sofa. For long periods of time, as though afraid that he’ll fall back into that tine, that mysterious door into the future that brought him here. Steve clings to her, too. Angie leaves them to themselves, sometimes, and sometimes she goes to Peggy’s other side, holds her that way, anchoring her between the two of them.

The man from Peggy’s stories is not quite the man that’s here now. He has his own stories, a lot of them. Angie can see it in his eyes, even though his hints and explanations are sparse. There’s something oddly comforting in this, Steve being almost as alien to Peggy as he is Angie. It keeps them on a somewhat level playing field, Angie thinks, keeps her from feeling the outsider. They are learning him together.

He called her Nat, once, when the three of them were in the kitchen making dinner. He called Angie Nat, and then he left before she could figure out what to do, before she could even think of handing over the salt he’d asked for.

He fled, hung around on the back porch for a long time. Peggy went out there, came back alone, told Angie that she hadn’t done anything wrong. Angie knew this, but the look on Steve’s face when he realized his mistake was enough to make her glad for Peggy’s reassurance.

After awhile, he came back in, joined them on the couch. He didn’t speak much all the rest of that night, wasn’t hungry even though he’s always hungry. But he sat with them, listened to the radio.

They are figuring it out, day by day. Some days pass easier than others

For now, they dance, and movements meant for two come easy for three.

They dance until Fred stops singing about heaven, and Angie enjoys it, but she’s been upstairs reading her script for too long, hadn’t realized it until she started moving. “Hey, let’s take a walk or something.”

“A walk?” Peggy repeats, amused more by the suddenness of it than the request itself.

“Yeah. It’s a beautiful day, even for our neighborhood.”

Steve laughs, rolls his eyes. “Very original. You think you’re the first to make that joke?”

Angie and Peggy look at each other, then at him. “What?” Angie asks.

He closes his eyes and mouths a curse word. “Okay, never mind. You probably are the first person to make that joke, actually.”

Angie looks at Peggy. “English, he’s being weird again.”

“I know, darling.” Peggy squeezes her hand in shared sympathy.

“It’s,” he lets go of Angie, rubs at his temple with the fingers of one hand, though Angie’s heard it takes a lot for him to get a true headache. “Fred Rogers, it’s a thing.”

“Rogers.” Angie frowns, points at him. “Is there going to be another one of you showing up? Are Peg and I going to have a matching set, one each?”

Steve sighs in a way Angie has very quickly grown familiar with. “Spoilers,” he says, giving Angie a quick peck on the lips before she can protest. “How about that walk?”

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up on Tumblr with prompts, headcanons, or just to say hi.
> 
> http://cblgblog.tumblr.com/


End file.
